


Sick Soren

by Kataury



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sick Character, Soren is silly when he's sick, Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 20:59:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15494565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kataury/pseuds/Kataury
Summary: Soren is usually pretty expedient when it comes to caring for himself. He's organized, clean, and orderly. But when it comes to work, he doesn't know when to quit. Fortunately he has a great boyfriend to take care of him whenever he overworks himself to the point of sickness.





	Sick Soren

**Author's Note:**

> Brainstormed this prompt on the discord. I love it so much I paused in the middle of the second chapter of Sex Hex to write it. I blame Ashikai. Not beta'd, and so fluffy the clouds themselves couldn't match it. Enjoy!

It was a small noise. Distant, and easily overlooked if you didn’t recognize it. Another followed, echoing down the hallway to reach Ike’s sharp ears. His head poked out of his room, glancing down both ends of the hallway, listening. 

“Achoo!” 

“Soren?” Ike called, tossing his cleaning rag into the bucket before wandering to the mage’s usual haunting ground. His suspicions were confirmed when he entered the library. Soren huddled beneath a thick wool blanket by the fire, blearily poring over his books accompanied by some heavy sniffs. 

Ike knocked on the bookshelf to catch his attention, heart aching to see the mage’s sunken eyes and flushed face. 

“Don’t tell me you pulled another all-nighter, Soren,” Ike sighed with a disapproving look. 

Soren shook his head in denial. “I just wanted to finish balancing last month’s books before turning in. The aftermath of a war has left us with a mountain of reports and paperwork. I’m almost finished with… last year,” he insisted. He sounded congested, and was shivering beneath the layer of his blanket. 

The hero wandered over to the crowded desk with its pile of books. “While I appreciate your dedication, it looks like all that effort has made you sick. Again.” He slapped the book shut, cutting off Soren from his numbers. He snatched it away before Soren could reach for it. “Time for bed.” 

“I’m not--  _ achoo! _ Sick. It’s just freezing today.” 

“It’s smoldering in here, Soren,” Ike rebutted, scooping the petite mage into his arms. 

“Ike! I’m fine!” he insisted before breaking into a fit of coughing, huddling closer to the larger man’s warmth with a shiver. “I can walk, you know,” he grumbled. 

“I know,” Ike replied with a patient smile. He returned to his recently cleaned room, laying Soren on the bed before rushing to grab a few more blankets and some pillows. By the time he returned he found his companion quiet and drowsy as he added layers and pillows to his sick nest. “You sleep. I’ll come check on you after I finish my chores,”he ordered. 

 

There were two stages to Soren’s sickness, according to Ike, his self-appointed caretaker. The first stage he dubbed the“stubborn phase”. Grumpy, irritated, and disobedient. Any time Ike looked away the mage would slip away from the bed and sneak off to do more work. Ike now made certain to lock the library during the first stage, barring the mage from all work until stage two set in. Somehow he still snuck a book or two from the library, drafting spells or studying battle tactics in hidden nooks and crannies around the compound. The rest of the morning became a game of cat and mouse between the two, but Ike always won. All the mercenaries knew to keep an eye out for the sneaky mage. Oscar and Mist caught him hiding between barrels in the kitchen last time, while Rhys usually caught him hiding in the pews of the chapel. Each time Ike came to retrieve him, confiscating his books (despite numerous protests) and carrying him back to his quarantine. By the end of the day Soren usually wore himself out into the next stage of sickness. 

This time was no different. After informing Oscar of their sick member and finishing his chores, Ike returned to his room an hour later to find the bed empty. A quick search of his wardrobe and under the bed produced no results either. The hunt was now on. 

Luckily, it was cleaning day. All the mercenaries would be busy scrubbing and chasing away dust from the complex, scouring the main building from top to bottom. Finding Soren was just a matter of time. 

“Could you keep an eye out for Soren?” He asked Mist and Titania as he passed them in the hall. 

“Isn’t he balancing the ledger?” The red-haired paladin offered.

Ike shook his head. “Not for the next few days he isn’t. He’s sick.” 

Mist giggled. “You don’t sound too sad about that, big brother.” The girls shared a knowing smile. 

“It’s not very often he rests quite so… thoroughly,” he vaguely agreed with a rare grin. 

Titania rolled her eyes. “We’ll be sure to come visit him after you catch him then. We were about to weed the garden, so we’ll stop by the chapel to see if Rhys still has his cold medicine.” 

Ike thanked the pair before checking the mage’s usual hiding places. Oscar and Rolf hadn’t seen him in the kitchens. Shinon had taken over the chore of cleaning and organizing the armory while Gatrie did the same for the cellar. Neither had seen the mage. Ike was about to head through the main doors when he heard a familiar sound. 

“ _ Choo!”  _

Ike whipped his head to see the great hall empty. It was the first room to be scrubbed and threshed, making it the perfect place to hide from busy mercenaries. He quietly tiptoed around the room, checking behind the stairs, followed by the drapes and tables. His eyes wandered until they settled on his father’s great armchair set in front of the fire. A small sniff confirmed his suspicions as he quietly approached the tall-backed chair. 

A peek over the top revealed a pitiful Soren, swallowed by the massive chair and balled up in a pair of thick blankets, reading through a journal of old battle notes. Every inch of him was covered in the heavy wool, save for his delicate hands poking out to hold his book. Ike reached over the top of the chair to snatch the book away, earning a protesting squawk that quickly descended into a fit of coughing. 

“Ike! You’re being ridiculous! Give me back my notes!” Soren demanded, doing his best to sound threatening and failing miserably thanks to his congestion. 

“You can get this back when you’re feeling better,” the older man replied, setting the book on the table before scooping up the bundle of mage and cloth. Soren struggled to escape his own blanket trap, weakly pushing at Ike’s face and kicking at his arms. 

“Let go, you great oaf!” The swordsman ignored it all with a smile, taking his time to return to his room. 

“Oscar will be making some soup for you tonight, and Mist will bring some medicine. Lucky for you I’m also nearly done with my chores, so I can focus on helping you get better,” Ike replied lightly, chatting away about their current cleaning progress and how they would save the library for later. 

When they finally arrived to Ike’s room, Soren was thoroughly worn out, panting and limp in the hero’s large arms. He deposited the invalid onto the bed again, helping him undress out of his damp clothes before swaddling him into another cocoon of blankets. 

“I hate you,” the mage grumbled. 

“I love you too,” Ike smiled. A knock at the door announced Mist’s return with the small bottle of medicine. 

“Glad to see you found him!” she smiled, popping the cork to the bitter tonic. “This should help him get better over the next few days. 

“I don’t need medicine!” He hissed, ruining his tight swaddle to push away the offered bottle. 

“It’ll help you get better faster, Soren! Don’t be such a child!” Mist argued. 

“I am not a child! I’m not sick! And I don’t want to eat your nasty medicine!” He swiped at her again, nearly knocking the bottle out of her hands. 

She sighed, “You’re always like this when your sick. Unreasonable and petty!” 

Ike gently touched his sisters arm, “Let me take care of this, Mist. I think he just needs a nap.” He watched Mist close the door behind her before turning back to the fuming patient. 

“I don’t need a nap either, damn it! If I had my tome I would have cut you both to shreds by now. Keeping me from my work and wasting time to play doctor while there’s work to be done…” Ike ignored the remainder of the rant, filling his mouth with nasty medicine before interrupting his lover’s tirade with a press of his lips. 

Soren was too surprised to deny him, allowing the bitter tonic to slide down his throat while Ike continued to explore his feverish mouth. By the time Ike pulled away Soren had fallen quiet. 

“You’re going to get sick now…” he grumbled, leaning back onto the mound of pillows. 

“Unlike you my body never gets sick,” Ike grinned before setting aside the half consumed bottle.

“Mmm… too dumb to get sick,” the mage mumbled in reply, shifting his body on its side while his eyes started to droop. 

Ike gently brushed the hair from Soren’s warm face. “Lucky for you.” He glanced out the window to see the sun at it’s high point. “Sleep for a little while. I’ll be back soon,” he promised. Soren drowsily nodded, burying his face into Ike’s pillow with a tired sigh. 

 

Ike hastened to complete his jobs, clearing out the stables with Boyd and helping Rhys clean the upper rafters of the chapel before heading to the river to clean himself of grime and soot. By the time he returned to his room with fresh water he found Soren groggily sitting up at his bed, his hair a tangled mess and cheeks flushed with color. Stage two had begun just as evening fell. 

“Where were you?” he asked tiredly, sluggishly accepting an offered cup. 

“I had to finish some work, but I’m here now, Soren. I’ll be here for the rest of the day,” he promised, stripping down to his undergarments. Soren let out a pitiful moan, shivering as his cocoon came undone to allow cold air to slip inside. Ike took the empty cup and slipped under the covers, renewing Soren’s swaddle before draping another blanket over the both of them before pulling the bundle that was his lover into his arms. The mage sighed contentedly, tucking his face into the crook of Ike’s neck and breathing in deeply. 

“I think I’m sick…” he murmured. 

“You might be,” Ike agreed. 

“Could Oscar make some soup tonight? I usually feel better after having some soup.” 

“I’ll let him know.” 

“No. Someone else should do it,” Soren said with a small shake of his head. “I don’t want you to go. Have Mist do it.”

Ike chuckled. “Okay. I will.” 

“Oscar makes good soup. He’s a good cook. He makes good things,” Soren slurred. 

“I’ll let him know you said that.” 

“It’s a secret, Ike,” The tactician protested. “People aren’t supposed to know I like them.” 

“It’ll be our secret then,” The warrior promised solemnly. “You say silly things when your this feverish. Did you know that.” 

Soren silently pondered this revelation. “I’m sick. Not silly, silly,” he laughed. “You’re warm, too. And you’re big. Reeaaaaallly big.” 

“I suppose,” Ike bit back a laugh.

“You know who else is big? Skrimir, and Tibarn, and, and Rolf, and Tormod. Why is everyone so big?” He grumbled. “Everyone’s bigger than me. I’m just a branded mage. I don’t get much bigger than this you know…” 

Ike gave him a tight squeeze. “I like you this size,” he reassured him. “You’re a perfect fit.” 

Soren hummed. “I wish I was taller though.” 

“Why taller?” 

“So I can kiss you whenever I want to. No tiptoes or grabbing you by the bandana.”

“That’s what the bandana is for, though.” 

Soren huffed, “I suppose…” 

Ike raised his head when he heard a knock at the door. “Come in.” 

Mist opened the door carrying a tray.  “Dinner time, Soren!” Her brother helped the mage into a sitting position, shuffling blankets around while Mist set the small tray on his lap. 

“Thank you, Mist,” Soren smiled softly, his eyes still lost in the haze of fever. 

She giggled. “You’re welcome, Soren. But Oscar was the one who made the soup.” 

“I really appreciate the kindness,” he replied before digging in. 

“You’re usual self could learn a thing or two from your sick self,” Mist sighed, lovingly brushing his long black strands away from his face. 

Soren shook his head. “I’m fine, I don’t need any more medicine.” 

“Fevers make you a mess,” she laughed before grabbing his medicine. “Think you can finish this bottle off for me?” 

Soren obediently accepted the medicine, making a displeased face before downing the contents. He returned the bottle before finishing his meal, complimenting Mist on her hair and sweet manners while adding gibberish phrases about weather and his favorite desserts. 

“No desserts tonight, Soren,” Ike said sternly. 

The mage sighed sadly. “But Oscar makes such nice tarts…” 

“I’ll take this down with me,” Mist offered, removing the platter from his lap with a new smile on her face. “It was lovely to spend some time with you, Soren. I hope you get better… at some point.” 

“Thank you, Mist,” Soren replied with a soft smile, watching her go before Ike bundled him up again. “You have a nice sister, Ike. She’s almost as nice as you.”

“I know, Soren,” his lover kissed his forehead, laying him back down before pulling him close again. The mage snuggled closer, drowning himself in Ike’s warmth and scent. The larger man listened carefully as Soren quietly babbled to himself, enjoying his random musings until the mage quieted down again. 

Ike glanced down to check and see if the mage was asleep. Although his eyes were closed Soren had started humming an odd little tune to himself. “Soren?” 

“ _ I like his blue hair… and his blue eyes… I like his muscles and silly bandana. He feeds me sweets, and he likes meat…”  _

“Are you… singing?” Ike whispered in awe. The mage ignored him as he softly sang to himself. 

“ _ He nails me in bed at night, and fights with swords. I like his mouth… and his nose. He smells okay, but sounds really nice. I like Ike.”  _

The subject of his song felt blood rush to his face as Soren continued to blather about all the things he liked about Ike. Every so often ending with the phrase, “ _ I like Ike _ .” His chest fluttered, but he didn’t dare move lest he disturb his half-sleeping mage. 

“ _ He’s not smart, but he’s kind. He smiles just for me, and is sexy as can be. I like Ike.”  _ The last words faded away as Soren finally succumbed to sleep. The blue haired hero pressed a kiss to the sick mage’s forehead. 

“I like you too, Soren,” he whispered before settling in to sleep with Soren's singing in his head. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ike loves it when Soren gets sick. Does he want his boyfriend sick? Of course not. But does he love it when he is sick? Absolutely. Ike had Soren's ridiculous little tune stuck in his head for a month after that. Every time Soren caught him humming it he would get super embarrassed.


End file.
